


Regret, Redheads and Resurrection

by ungodlyravenpuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Centaurs, Death Eaters, F/F, F/M, Hope, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, POV Ginny Weasley, POV Percy Weasley, Slytherin Ginny Weasley, Slytherin Percy Weasley, dealing with grief, fred is in a coma because I have but a soft heart, not a plot point though, only mentioned - Freeform, snape can suck it he's dead and despised so that's cool, tonks and lupin are dead im sorry y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29304504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ungodlyravenpuff/pseuds/ungodlyravenpuff
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Ginny and Percy Weasley struggle to find their footing, regain control, and re-establish broken relationships.After all, there's more to grief than pain.Unfortunately.Can Percy's family forgive him for leaving? Can Percy forgive himself?There's always been more to Ginny Weasley's life than Harry Potter, no matter how the tabloids paint it, and she's confident in that. But now, struggling with PTSD and a reclusive boyfriend with a hero-complex, The Girl Who Fought can't help but wonder.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Cho Chang/Parvati Patil, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

There was a dead body on Ginny’s bed.

It lay tangled in her sheets, red shirt and faded blue jeans standing out among the spotless white of the sheets she’d tucked in that morning. Tufts of raven black hair lay scattered on the pillow, and she could just make out the glint of cracked glasses.

Her vision darkened, the covers turning to green moss, the walls fading to the green tint of the outskirts of a forest. And suddenly he was dead at Hagrid’s feet, and she was _there,_ her own defiant scream mingling with those of her brother and _his_ sister.

_‘Harry! HARRY!’_

The pain still felt real, a physical stab in the chest as she’d squinted and seen and refused to believe it. She remembered blinking and blinking and _blinking_ the burn out of her eyes—

‘Gin?’

The memory faded as her eyes fluttered open, the present colouring her walls yellow again— _it was her room, just her room—_ a long breath escaping as her gaze travelled to the headboard, to the bed—where Harry Potter lay asleep.

Well. Had lain asleep. He was looking up at her, bleary-eyed, lips curving into a small smile.

Tears filled Ginny’s eyes before she could stop them, running down her cheeks as they never had before. She looked up angrily, fists raising to swipe them away, and found herself staring into a graphic red tee.

‘Harry?’ _Goodness,_ she thought tearfully, _that was fast._

He didn’t reply, only wrapped his arms around her in a hug, drawing her to him even as her tears soaked his shirt.

‘Look at me,’ she laughed, self-deprecatingly, ‘having my boyfriend comfort me after a nightmare like _I’m_ the one who nearly died. Ugh.’

He kissed the top of her head in a rare sweet gesture. ‘If I’m going by how I felt when Bellatrix fired that curse at you, I’d say we’re pretty even. Also, yes, you’re crazy. It’s not like it would’ve been the end of the world.’

‘WHAT?’ she untangled herself to glare through her tears at a thoroughly bewildered Harry.

‘What?’

‘Not the end of the world? Are you mad? Are you actually as stupid as you look?’

He had the nerve to supress a smile, his eyes wandering like he was thinking of, or remembering, something else. ‘Sorry?’

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled his face down to hers. This close, he smelt lovely, like orange and cinnamon and _Harry._ God, she had to get it together. ‘Damn right you’re sorry. _I fucking love you, ok?_ I waited a year for you and wondered if you even want to get back together. And now you dare to wonder if I wouldn’t have been completely _destroyed_ if—’ her stupid tear ducts were having a field day. Blurrily, she saw Harry take her face in his hands. They were so calloused.

‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. I love you too.’

She wanted to bottle that moment with a painful longing, but their proximity, coupled with a year of absolutely no snogging at all was beginning to feed her thoughts Harry was definitely not ready for.

Well, they could snog, at least. She only had time to mutter, ‘Who _raised_ you?’ with a fond eye-roll before tipping her head back and standing on her toes to meet his lips with hers.

He tasted exactly like he smelled, only better, and she reached up to grip the back of his neck so his arms could wind around—

And he was still. She was kissing him with everything she had, after a _fucking year,_ and he might’ve as well been a statue. She opened her eyes; his green eyes blazed at her. _Were those…tears?_

Ginny let go immediately, hands dropping to his so they interlocked fingers. ‘Harry, are you all right?’

He shifted; those weren’t tears, but he definitely looked pained. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘No, you’re not. D’you have a bruise at the back of your neck? Are your lips wounded? Oh my god, you have an STD, don’t you?’

He had to laugh, at that, and Ginny felt proud of herself for being able to lessen his pain. Proud, and happy. It wasn’t something she’d thought she’d have the luxury to feel after the war.

‘No, it’s definitely not that, though I didn’t realise wizards have it too. Weird, innit? The common thread?’ She snorted. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, a playful glint in his eyes now, ‘I won’t be acquiring it for some time, either, so don’t hold your breath.’

She whacked him lightly on the arm, and then, ignoring his theatrical groan of pain, ‘Well, then, what is it? Was it something I said?’

His eyes snapped up to hers. She suddenly understood why it was called eye _contact_. ‘No,’ he said, his tone uncharacteristically harsh. ‘No, Ginny, I said I’m fine.’

She straightened. ‘Oh, you are, are you? Almost died, seemed to _actually_ die—’ she inched even closer to him, so they were breaths away from each other, ‘—lost your father’s best friend, killed the greatest Dark Wizard of all time after 5 _fucking_ encounters with his Cruciatus curse, and you’re fine. Of course.’ His breaths were coming faster, now, and he was frozen in place. ‘“Fine!” Eloquent as _fuck,_ Harry Potter.’ she finished, throwing her arms up in despair.

He _flinched_. A full-body recoil that was so quick she barely saw him move, just a red blur.

Now, Ginny felt bone-weary after her tirade, and she’d said some hurtful things, but none so painful that warranted a _full-body recoil_ from the Boy Who Lived.

She lowered her arms, blinked. Cursed the wet drops on her cheek into oblivion. She hadn’t even realised she was crying. ‘Harry?’

He seemed to get what he’d done and his face hardened as he took a steady step forward, back now ramrod straight.

‘Forget it, Gin. I’m sorry.’

And he walked out, his long legs bounding past her like he couldn’t wait to get away.

‘Fine, then!’ she called, even as her stomach dropped terrifyingly to her gut. ‘FUCK YOU TOO!’

There was a loud crack behind her and Ginny whirled around, ready to tell off Fred or George. But it wasn’t the twins. It was Mum. _Of course._

And, _of course,_ her expression was murderous.

Ginny didn’t have room for more anger. The dam broke, and she could barely make it to her bed before collapsing, hugging herself tightly as she willed the stupid, _endless_ tears away.

‘Oh.’ Her mother was there, then, hugging Ginny tightly to her and allowing her to sob into her mum’s shoulder like a little kid.

‘It’s OK, dear, you’ll be all right, I’m here, I’m here now…’

Ginny begrudgingly loosened her shoulders, her tears flowing more freely. Molly sensed her reluctance and removed her from her embrace, bracing her hands on Ginny’s shoulders. Her firm but kind attitude was actually sort of— _no._ Ginny squashed the thought down as soon as it arose. _Mum was suffering now, too. She’d figure this out on her own if she could without burdening Mum with her problems._

‘What is it, Ginny dear?’

‘Nothing. I’m just really tired and I stubbed my toe…’

Molly’s eyes narrowed—a classically typical reaction when Ginny or the twins were around. ‘So I didn’t hear you scream an unspeakable after Harry as he stormed out of your room?’

Ginny sniffed. ‘No.’

‘Right.’ Mum looked disbelieving for a few seconds, but didn’t press it. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll make up. You know Fred and George didn’t give him the classic Weasley rib they gave Dean and… who was it, Michael Corner?’

Ginny was too shocked by this to fully process the fact that her mother knew about her previous boyfriends. _Or think about Fred and George._ ‘They didn’t?’

‘Yes. They took him to dinner and wished him the best, especially if he wanted to break it off with you—’

_‘What?’_

‘—because you’d annihilate him yourself if he broke your heart. Let me finish, Ginevra.’

Ginny was mute. To her horror, the backs of her eyes prickled yet again. _No. No fucking way._ She blinked until she felt calm again, felt the painful lump in her throat recede. Goodness, what was with her today?

‘Merlin, Mum, I was so awful! I probably—’

‘I don’t think Harry could ever hate you, Ginny.’ Mum said, uncharacteristically gently.

‘I didn’t mean that! I meant he’s probably feeling _crushed_ right now! All his life the Dursleys have been monsters to him, and then Dumbledore played him like a pawn—’ at this, Molly’s lips pursed, but she stopped at a frown, ‘—and now I go and pull something like this! Harry’s fragile, Mum! He’d take a million Cruciatus curses and come out feeling a bit wobbly, but one sentence more like that and he’ll probably off himself, with the way he’s been feeling lately.’

Now Mum sat up in alarm. ‘What? You think he’d even consider— _that?_ Don’t you dare go around throwing statements like that, Ginny. This is not something to joke about, you hear me?’

‘But I wasn’t—’ Ginny started, then abruptly stopped. Harry loved Molly, but if she even suspected that he didn’t consider his life precious or valuable, Harry’d never have a moment alone. _And he’ll definitely hate her, his girlfriend, more._ She’d find out Harry’s mental state before she allowed her mum to make big leaps like this.

Molly was still staring at her steadily. Ginny sighed, and made a big show of throwing her hands up in exasperation. ‘Alright fine! God, you can’t even take a joke, Mum. We’ve been through a war, it’s time to relax a little, don’t you reckon?’

At this, Molly’s glare changed to something much more familiar and fonder. She let Ginny hug her and then stood up, shaking her head, ‘You’re the reason my head’s all rose-gold, rather than its original ruby red, you know. If it turns white soon you’ll have me to answer to. No, don’t you dare call it classy—’ Ginny bit back her words mutinously ‘—or I’ll let Fre—I’ll commission Charlie to dye _your_ hair while you sleep. He has the skills for it, you know.’ Ginny rolled her eyes— _not so the tears at Fred’s name wouldn’t spill—_ but shut up at that. One didn’t mess with Molly Weasley. ‘And go make up with your miserable boyfriend, dear. I’m sure he could use some of this sass.’

Ginny fell back onto the bed as her mum left, breathing in Harry’s scent deeply. It smelled like home. _I sure hope so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! This is my first multi-chapter work and right now I plan to upload about once a week on Mondays. Finals are killing me this month so no promises, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Kudos and comments are really appreciated. xo


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And then the whole bloody thing with the flinch."

He was leaning against the Weasleys’ old apple tree, hands in his pockets. His head was tipped forward, raven black hair over cracked circular glasses obscuring his eyes. Amidst the sunny fields, the gleaming lake, and the shouts of her brothers’ Quidditch match in the distance, Harry Potter could not have more thoroughly looked the picture of indolent despondence.

Ginny Weasley stopped six feet short of him, heart clenching. ‘Harry?’ 

There was a brown blur of movement, and then her boyfriend was pointing his wand at her chest. Ginny felt her hand automatically reach for her side, into a cloak and for a wand that weren’t there. _Stupid,_ she thought, _stupid to come unarmed,_ before realising it was _Harry,_ just _Harry, who she’d seen “dead” and shirtless and—_ now her arms went up of their own accord, her body adopting the classic “unarmed and innocent” stance. ‘Harry, it’s me! Ginny? The girl you snogged senseless on your birthday last year and seemed to _beg_ for more from an hour ago?’

She’d said the first thing that came to her head, aiming as always to get that taut posture to relax, that unhappy, deeply suspicious quirk of his lovely lips to flatten out. She’d taken her default route through force of habit: sass. It wasn’t the best idea: it had gotten her the Cruciatus from the Carrows at Hogwarts last year too many times.

But it seemed to work on Harry, for his white-knuckled grip on his wand instantly slackened, and he slouched further into the shadows of the tree, lowering his shaking arm. He’d gone pale, and she thought his voice seemed a little unsteady when he next spoke, his jaw set as if to still his trembling lips.

‘Oh. Right. Sorry. What d’you want?’

Ginny steeled herself. _Of course he didn’t trust my voice,_ she thought, trying not to panic at his initial reaction. _He’s been through distrustful hell. It’s just the war._ ‘I want to apologise.'

At that, he seemed genuinely surprised, mouth falling slightly open. He pushed off the tree and jogged over to her in long, lean strides. ‘What? What d’you have to be sorry for, Gin?’

‘For...?' _for everything,_ she thought. _for loving you and trusting you as you walked to your death, and still making it about me._ ‘For hurting you back there. I didn't mean all that.’

‘You…didn’t? Okay, I mean, not that you were wrong, really,’ he added, stopping just out of her arms’ reach. ‘They were true. And of course it’s alright.’

Ginny let out most of the breath she’d been holding. ‘Is it, really? Alright, I mean? I said…I asked you to go fuck yourself.’ He winced; she guessed he hadn’t heard that said out loud very often. ‘And everything else: it was a cruel reminder. I watched The Boy I Lo--Who Lived lying “dead”’—she made air quotes—‘at the feet of Voldemort, I watched the only sis—’ her voice trembled, and she cleared her throat—‘the only person that… felt like an older sister to me die, and you don’t bring it up every second. So yeah, I’m really sorry, and you're going to have to accept that.’

He waited, still looking down, like he sensed there was more. She was a little bit surprised at his unearthly patience; by now she’d have slapped him, then snogged him into the next dawn.

‘It’s just…when I kissed you, you froze up, Harry. And then the whole _bloody_ thing with the flinch. And the fact that you keep insisting you’re fine. You aren’t fine, none of us are. I get why you might pretend with Mum and Dad and the twins; but we’ve never been that way. You don’t have to be strong for me, or anything like that. You don’t have to be brave, or to hold it together all the time, no one’s expecting that from any of us. Especially not from you.’

Harry had gone rigid, and she waited anxiously (and more than a little impatiently) for an answer.

It was rare for Ginny to talk this much without coercion; usually the thought of mushy support gave her an ulcer. But Harry needed this, and she’d feel happy enough to cast a patronus if she could just get him out of his shell. He just nodded, looking less miserable. ‘All right, Ginny. I know. And you don’t have to say that, you know. I love you, and that’s more than enough for me.’

‘What the hell d’you mean?’

‘I mean, you don’t have to say you love me. We’ve just started dating, _really_ dating, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it too just ‘cause I did.’

‘I’m _not_ saying it just ‘cause you did, you big git. I’m saying it ‘cause it’s true. Now if you carry on like this, I’m not sure our ten _future children_ will be very pleased. Wouldn’t want them to watch dear Mum and Dad squabble, now, would we?’

She raised her hand to give him a playful (but not painless) punch on the arm, but hit air.

‘Wha—’ She turned sharply, gaze seeking him out.

He was standing beside her, a half-sheepish look on his face mixed with something she couldn’t quite place. ‘Sorry.’

‘You were just here!’ she indicated; voice rising to a pitch. ‘Just—how did you—’

‘I’m actually pretty quick on my feet. Reckoned your arm swing could race me? Even Dudley’s couldn’t, and he had practice enough.’ He smirked, before seeming to realise what he’d said.

‘Harry—’

‘OK, I know what you’re going to ask me. And no—’

‘Oh, you do?’ she cut in, crossing her arms and fixing him with a glare that probably rivalled her mum’s. ‘And what’s that?’

Harry seemed deeply uncomfortable, and it hurt her to see him like this, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he ran a hand through his already messy hair (Ginny had to ignore a lurch in her stomach, at that) and opened his mouth hesitantly.

‘Harry! Ginny!’ came a loud voice: Ron was waving at them from the shed. ‘MUM SAYS YOU HAVE TO COME IN FOR LUNCH NOW!’

Harry raised a hand back, pointing his wand at his throat to mutter a spell. When he spoke, it was with his normal effort, though his voice now boomed across the fields. ‘ALRIGHT, MATE, WE’RE COMING.’

Inwardly, Ginny cursed her brother for his terrible timing. The one time she’d made some headway… Harry was probably relieved about how he got off so easily.

‘Gin? Reckon you’ve graced that tree’s shadow enough with your sunburned presence?’ she jolted at Harry’s voice, coming to her senses to see him smirking.

She glared at him before wrapping her arm around his as they walked back to the house. This was definitely the best part about having a boyfriend, she decided. The arm hugs.

And, of course, the snogging.

Mushy support would have to wait. If only she could drive out the anxious headache his avoidance of the topic had drummed into her brain until then. Because knowing Harry, it wasn't going to be anytime soon if he had anything to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright let's pretend these 1100 words make up for being a day late.  
> I edited this only once so if anything's messed up let me know in a comment!  
> Speaking of which, kudos and comments are much appreciated, validation is my wage y'all


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But this time, Ginny couldn’t be so sure. Couldn’t afford the hope that they’d all recover—she, with her body and mind still reeling from the Cruciatus and the screams at Hogwarts that previous year, Harry, hurt beyond what any of them could fathom, guilty and restless, and the twins, with her funniest brother locked in a deadly coma.

The next few days were hell.

It wasn’t that Harry was unusually cowed, or that he wouldn’t meet her eyes, or that he was mad. It was that he wasn’t any different.

Obviously, Ginny didn’t particularly want her boyfriend to be any of those things. But after how he’d tensed upon just mentioning Dudley, his flinch when she threw up her hands in exasperation, and his immediate self-deprecation, she’d hadn’t expected him to act like it just never happened. One thing was clear: she had to do something.

Ginny didn’t know much about his life at the Dursleys, but she could talk to those who did.

She cornered Ron and Hermione in her and Hermione’s room one night, barging in on them snogging without pause.

‘Hey.’ They broke apart, Hermione looking flushed and pleased and angry embarrassment staining the tops of Ron’s ears red. He opened his mouth crossly, brows drawn together in a frown.

She held one hand up. ‘Spare me. I’ve got much more important things to ask you about which actually matter to me. Sex tips isn’t one of them.’

Hermione stifled a very un-Hermione-like giggle, glancing at Ron and catching his eye before they both looked away quickly, smiling. Goodness, thought Ginny, diverted, at this rate they’d be engaged before the year was up.

‘What d’ _you_ need, Gin? I’m not giving you my room; you’re sharing with Hermione until Mum says you can move out—’

‘Ron, shut up.’ Hermione said, grabbing his arm. ‘It’s not that. Keep going, Ginny, what is it?’

‘Thank you, Hermione.’ Ginny said pointedly. ‘It’s about Harry.’

‘Oh?’ Hermione’s hands twitched in her lap, and Ron looked suspicious.

‘Yeah. Not like that, Ron, you arse! I just wanted to know, since you’re his best mates…’ she hesitated. How did you ask someone something like this, even if it wasn’t about them? ‘How was his life with his aunt and uncle?’

‘The Dursleys?’ Hermione looked tearful. ‘Oh, I suspect they were horrible to him, weren’t they, Ron?’

Ron nodded fervently. ‘They’d lock up his Hogwarts stuff—y’know, wand, trunk, cloaks, all that—in this dingy cupboard under the stairs. And remember we used to send him those cakes and chocolates for his birthday, 'Mione?'

Ginny’s stomach plummeted painfully. Not only at what Hermione and Ron said, but also at their callous manner; the way they seemed to associate these injustices with Harry like it was normal. The unintended casual undertone Hermione had while she described the Dursleys as horrible. She tried not to show her mounting fear. ‘What do the cakes have to do with how they treated him?’ --

Hermione was staring at her with a look too shrewd for comfort. 'Wait, why do you want to know, Ginny? I don't think Ron still has their address.'

'Oh, that's not'--' Ron began, but Hermione elbowed him, hard, and he shut up, shooting them both mutinous looks. 'Well?'

 _Bollocks._ 'I, er, he said they're coming back,' she flubbed wildly. 'From wherever they went into hiding during the war.' Across, Hermione drew a sharp breath. 'So, we'd-we'd have to go over, fix up their Muggle house, wouldn't we? I just wanted to be prepared.' She looked down at her lap, turning her wand over and over in her fingers as sparks idly shot out in the shape of teardrops. She pitched her voice low, pushing tears to her eyes, and it didn't take much effort. 'But, er, if you'd rather not tell me I understand. I just want to be there for him.'

Ron and Hermione exchanged a frankly sickening look, but Ginny kept her gaze locked down at her hands. She could _feel_ them arguing silently _\--probably about how to comfort her, since everyone thought she was an overemotional child now, apparently--_ but Ron seemed to have won, his blue eyes serious when she dared look up.

'I don't know much about how he lived there, Gin,' he said quietly. 'Hated them, of course, said so in all of his letters. And I think their food must've been like flobberworms, because Harry barely ate there.'

 _'What?'_ Ginny thought Hermione seemed unreasonably surprised-- _for bloody Merlin's sake, aren't you supposed to be best friends?--_ but Ron only shrugged.

'Dunno, always figured he wouldn’t need cakes unless he was really short on food—I mean, a big birthday cake’s not exactly everyday food, is it?’

‘Oh.’ said Hermione, softly. Her eyes were wide, glistening. ‘Oh, God, I never thought of it that way. I mean, I fretted every summer over his being far too thin when he returned to school—but I thought that was just nightmares and PTSD with no schoolwork or Quidditch for pleasurable distractions!’

‘Nightmares? Harry’s had those before?’

Ron and Hermione exchanged another glance, and Ginny read this one just as clearly: they were trying to decide what, if anything, they should tell her. Hermione seemed to decide on the truth. Good. Ginny didn’t want to hurt Harry with these questions until she had to.

‘He’s had them since third year.’ Hermione began, and Ginny stifled a gasp. She clenched her fists. ‘Remember the dementors on the train? The Quidditch match against Hufflepuff?’ Hermione paused at Ginny’s terse nod, as if selecting her next words carefully. ‘Well, it brought back some—buried memories about V-Voldemort.’

‘The death of his parents.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘I s’pose it must’ve started in earnest after fourth year, though,’ Ron interposed, wrapping an arm around Hermione and looking like he wanted to comfort his sister, but wasn’t sure how. His gaze travelled around the room, eyes suspiciously bright, and landed on the nightstand. Ginny noticed his hands shook, slightly, as he picked up the glass of water that stood there and handed it to her. ‘That was when he saw Cedric die, You-Kno—Voldemort come back. There were also the visions, of course.’

Ginny drained the glass in one gulp, wishing it held Firewhiskey instead. ‘Visions?’

Hermione nodded, clearly ready to tell her more. But Ron had had enough. ‘Look, why don’t you ask him all this yourself if you’re that desperate to find out?’

‘Because he’ll brush her off, Ron, don’t you see?’ Hermione said angrily, jumping in on Ginny’s behalf. ‘It took him years to say anything to us, and what you know is from when you rescued him from them five years ago. If she pushes him now he might push her away.’

‘Thank you ever so much for your vote on his confidence, Hermione,’ Ginny said wryly as the other girl flushed hotly. ‘But you’re right,’ she added quickly. ‘I can’t risk losing his trust right now; he has a godson and no support system.’

‘Blimey. Listen to you, Ginny! Support system and all; this war has really made you grow up, innit?’

‘We’ve all changed.’ She said shortly, pointedly glancing at his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder; she didn’t appreciate being patronised by her brother. ‘Now, what about those visions?’

‘What visions?’ said a familiar voice, and Ginny startled, her hair whipping around as she turned toward the door, alarmed and a little scared. What would Harry say if he knew the people that meant the most to him were discussing his health with _her_? How would he feel?

But they were in luck; Charlie was right behind Harry. Ginny smirked—more in relief than anything else—Harry was easiest to divert when he was around her brothers. ‘Charlie, you haven’t got my, “We Won, Voldy Lost” present yet, I take it?’ she asked coolly. ‘And to think, I worried about it being easy to find.’

‘Not all things difficult to find are worth looking for, Gin,’ he replied, unfazed. ‘Doing us a favour by keeping that shit out of sight, then.’

‘Oi, arse—’ she began, but Hermione interrupted rather hurriedly. ‘Harry, what are you doing here? Aren’t you all s’posed to be playing Quidditch?’ Ginny glared at her, but she appeared not to notice.

‘We were, but Harry is a godfather now, so…’ Charlie rolled his eyes a little too elaborately, looking like he wanted to suppress his laughter.

Ginny glanced at Harry, opening her mouth to berate Charlie when she noticed her boyfriend’s expression. He was flushed, which was to be expected at Charlie’s comment, but his brown skin glistened with sweat, long eyelashes suspiciously damp. ‘Harry, are you alright?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, mum—that, is—’ he stopped short, flushing. ‘I mean, you have your brothers to thank for this,’ he gestured to his sweaty t-shirt and face.

‘Oh, is that so? What happened?’ she asked, ignoring the pain that flashed across his face as he cut off his jesting words, having no mother to compare her concern to. Pain—and something else much worse. _Self-loathing? Anger? Guilt? The PTD Hermione mentioned?_

‘Mrs Tonks came over,’ he began, and she raised her eyebrows. ‘She’s gone now; all this— ‘referring to his sweat-soaked appearance, ‘is from walloping your brothers at Quidditch for telling her I couldn’t talk to her then.’

‘Oh, you didn’t send her away, did you?’ Hermione asked Charlie furiously; they all knew Andromeda Tonks didn't agree with Remus' choice to male The Chosen One little Ted Lupin's godfather.

‘No, they led her out, but I overheard them and managed to interrupt before any more damage was done.’ He was biting his lip in a way that should be illegal—for more reasons than one.

‘Don’t worry, mate—I’m sure she’ll end up loving you,' Ron said, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he sat next to them. 'She has pretty low standards for family already, you’ve got this one in the bag.’

Hermione and Ginny winced in sync. Harry remained stone faced, brown skin now translucent. ‘Too much?’ Ron asked quietly.

‘Definitely.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Anyway, Harry, how was Mrs Tonks?’ Ginny continued, falsely bright, but ensured that the look she gave him asked the real question: _does she like you?_ They'd talked about this before--Harry's future relationship with Teddy now hinged almost entirely on Andromeda, and Harry's resemblace to Sirius in this situation probably made him uncomfortable and more than a little desperate to get this whole godparenting-situation right. Ginny suspected it hurt Harry a lot more than he would allow himself to concede.

‘It was fine—I think. It definitely could’ve gone a lot worse, knowing my luck.’ he snorted. ‘I’m going to visit on Saturday.’

‘But that’s just 2 days from now,’ Hermione said, surprised. ‘Doesn’t she need time to recuperate?’

‘We were all here 5 days after the war, Hermione. And we conked out for 4 of those 5 days.’

‘I know, Ron, but—’

‘Anything else Mrs Tonks said or asked for, Harry? How’s Teddy?’ Ginny asked, firmly cutting off their impending argument. Once Ron and Hermione got started they could bicker for days. And these days their bickering could lead to something else entirely.

Harry brightened immediately. ‘Teddy’s fine, considering. I think Mrs Tonks wants some time to herself, Hermione; I think this is some sort of test to ensure I’ll be a good godfather to him. So, she can... take that time off and be secure of his, er, well-being.’

‘Ok.’ Ron nodded. ‘Can't imagine Mum being alright with you running off to Grimmauld Place every two days, Harry. She'll have her eyes fused to the clock at some point, mark my words.’

‘Mum hasn’t really been…cleaning lately,’ Charlie said in his low, hoarse voice, and they all jumped—they’d nearly forgotten he was there.

‘She isn’t much better than George, honestly.’ _George_. Ginny’s heart hurt every time she thought of George. Worse than it did at thoughts of Fred; after all, there was still hope for him. _Yeah_ , said a voice in her head, _after Mum and George recover and hoping George doesn’t beat the bloody lights out of Percy and before 2 months, when everyone in this family leaves for their own lives._ But she had to stop. George would be fine, and she’d help Ron and him in finding a cure. After all, Hermione had suffered the same thing fourth year at the Ministry, only cast silent, and she was right as rain. Technically, they would be all right.

But Ginny, though under normal circumstances an eternal optimist, couldn’t now be so sure. Couldn’t afford the hope that they’d all recover—she, with her body and mind still reeling from the Cruciatus and the screams at Hogwarts that previous year, Harry, hurt beyond what any of them could fathom, guilty and restless, and the twins, with her funniest brother locked in a deadly coma.

 _It’s going to be a very hard summer,_ she thought, heart sinking as she looked up at the rest of them, these cracked and scarred and beautiful people she loved all brushing or blinking tears out of their eyes. And starting it off this way wouldn't do. She thought of Fred, how he'd have rolled his eyes and nudged her at such a vacant display of constant emotion, and clapped her hands. She owed him better. ‘So, who else is starving?’

They all looked up; then Ron jumped up from the bed, extending a hand to Hermione, whose features relaxed into an expression similar to how she looked after exams.

Charlie grinned. ‘A true Weasley at heart, I see.’

And Harry—Harry looked like he knew exactly what she was doing, and was grateful for it. She looked up at him brightly. ‘Come on, silly. I know you can probably go a whole week or something with a soddy piece of toast, but the Weasley appetite calls!’

He opened his mouth, then hesitated, as she took his hand. ‘Alright. I’ll be cooking it, of course. Your mum—Mrs Weasley isn’t up for it yet.’

‘Yeah,’ Ginny agreed, ‘I’ll take a tray up to her instead. But doing the cooking all by yourself, Potter? Are you sure you can handle it?’

The corner of Harry’s mouth curved ever so slightly upward as he jogged down the stairs, squeezing her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘Dinner for these nutters? Trust me, I’ve been training for this my whole life.’

She laughed inwardly at his misplaced confidence. ‘If you say so. Better you than Ron.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm alive! Sorry for the late update, had a bad case of Procrastination by Perfectionism, which is my Achilles' heel. But chapters should be up at a semi-regular rate now, so watch out for more Hinny and Romione!
> 
> Leave a kudos or a comment if you liked this chapter, I thrive on validation lmao


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